


/L/O/V/E/

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Corruption, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Guard-Prisoner Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Institutional Abuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Prison, Racism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: After being sentenced to five years behind bars for possession and supply of Heroin, Harry finds himself locked away in Hogwarts Prison. He soon captures the attention of fellow inmate Tom Riddle, the kingpin who has nearly all of the guards wrapped around his little finger.However Tom's operations when notorious criminal Gellert Grindelwald is transferred to Hogwarts, and Harry finds himself trapped in the middle





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head for absolutely ages, so I've decided to finally write it :D The main focus of this story will be Tomarry, however there will be other characters and pairings which will get some attention. 
> 
> I know very little about prisons, and what I do know is mostly based off Orange Is the New Black. So please just accept things as they are, and don't expect a really factual account of what prison is like, because this definitely won't be. It's just a fun story, so go and watch a documentary if you feel the need to complain about accuracy xD 
> 
> But anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know if there are any particular characters you would love to see included in this :)

Harry looked out of the window at the grey building which had come looming into view, hidden for the most part by high walls topped with endless lengths of barbed wire. 

Nobody on the bus ride to the prison had said a word, yet somehow now, as they passed through corrugated metal gates, the silence was deafening. It still hadn't quite sunk in to Harry that this would be his home for the next five year, perhaps because he had been either high or going through forced withdrawal since his sentencing. 

"Gosh," said the skinny, sandy-haired man sat in front of Harry. "This is really happening."

The tall, black guy on the row next to Harry snorted. "Mate, you're not going to last long in here if you use words like 'gosh'." 

The bus finally came to a stop in front of the reception building, and the driver--a burly guard--stood and glared at them. 

"Alright, inmates, get up!"

The sandy-haired man muttered something under his breath. 

"What was that, inmate?" the guard growled. 

"I _said_ , we have names. Calling us 'inmates' is entirely dehumanising." 

Harry and the other man hitched their breath at the same time. 

"Is that so?" the guard sneered. "Well maybe you should have thought of that before you committed a crime, _inmate_."

"I'd hardly call freeing abused animals a crime," Sandy-Hair retorted, and Harry had to admit that for somebody who used the word 'gosh', he certainly had a surprising lack of meekness about him. 

The guard chuckled. "That hippie shit won't get you far in here. Now, all of you, up!"

Harry stood along with the other two, stepping second in line. Sandy-Hair in front of him took one step, only to be shoved hard into the edge of the seats by the guard. 

"Careful, inmate, let's hope you don't have too many falls in here."

"You pushed me!" Sandy-Hair argued, flinching when the guard raised his fist towards his face. 

"You fell." The guard shrugged. "I'm sure the bloke behind you will vouch for that."

"Yes, he fell," Harry said dryly, eyeing the guard darkly. "He happened to slip in shit."

The guard laughed cruelly. "Might as well make the most of that attitude while you can. A pretty kid like you is going to end up someone's bitch by the end of your first week, and you won't be so cocky then. I may even send Greyback your way."

"This is some bullshit," the man behind Harry muttered. "Fucking psycho guards."

"I'm not a psycho, I just don't have any patience for criminal scum like you. Now, get off the fucking bus before I make you."

The three of them left the bus, joined by a further two guards waiting for them by the door. 

"So what's your take on these three?" one of the new guards asked the driver.

"The hippie at the front is going to starve when he finds out the cook won't give a damn about his vegan diet, the pretty boy is going to spend most of his time sucking cock, and the black kid is either going to shiv someone or be shivved--you know how violent their type are."

"My type?! the man cried. "You racist fuck!"

"Oi," one of the new guards hissed, unsheathing his baton threateningly. "Watch how you talk to your superiors."

They were led sullenly to a waiting room for processing, where they were each handcuffed and told to wait. 

"I knew prisons were corrupt, but this is horrendous," Sandy-Hair muttered. "I'm Newt, by the way, Newt Scamander."

"Dean Thomas," the other offered. 

"Harry Potter," Harry said. 

"I would say it's nice to meet you, but I'd rather it was under different circumstances," Newt said quietly. "Have either of you been in prison before?" Harry and Dean shook their heads. "So this is going to be a learning experience for us all."

"This isn't a learning experience, it's just bullshit," Dean muttered. "I shouldn't even be here."

"That's nothing we haven't heard before; you'll get used to being here soon enough," a new voice spoke up from a doorway across the room. "Which of you is Potter? You're being processed first."

Harry stood, his sullen look not dampening the bemused expression of the new man. He was an overweight fellow with a bushy moustache, and reminded Harry a little bit of his uncle, if his uncle hadn't looked permanently disgusted each time he laid eyes on Harry. 

"Come in, come in," the man ushered, leading Harry into a clinical looking room which seemed like it hadn't been updated since the 1980s. "I'm Horace Slughorn. Now, where are your files? Ah, here we go...hmm, five years for Heroin possession and supply. And you're only nineteen! What a waste of a young life."

"I'll be out by the time I'm twenty-four," Harry retorted, folding his arms over his chest. 

Slughorn still wasn't put off. "True, true. Although in my experience addicts never end up behind bars just the once. Oh, I'm sure you'll be an exception," he added hastily. "Now, if you could look at the camera over the computer, please?"

Harry did as he was told, falling silent as Slughorn took his photo and fingerprints, and checked his height and weight. 

"Excellent, excellent," Slughorn said. "Just the strip-search to go, then we're all done. So if you could take off your clothes and-"

"I don't want to be strip-searched," Harry cut in. "I'm not smuggling anything in; the rehab clinic said I was clean."

Slughorn raised a bushy eyebrow. "Do you think we're able to take inmates at their word? Goodness, no, we'd soon descend into chaos if that was the case. Now, clothes off, please. The quicker you obey the quicker it's over, but if you continue to refuse I'll be forced to fetch for one of the guards."

Harry gave Slughorn his most hateful glare, but shed his clothes dutifully if only to get the search over and done with. Slughorn, true to his word, made quick work with his torch as he looked for hidden contraband. 

"Good boy," Slughorn said when the search came up clean. "I just need you to squat and cough, and then we're done."

Harry reckoned he'd given his most hateful glare too early. 

When Slughorn was finally finished with his search, Harry felt utterly humiliated, and he gratefully snatched the orange jumpsuit when it was offered to him, desperate to escape the chilly air and Slughorn's stare which didn't match his otherwise professional attitude. 

"Well you're all cleared to go. You can go and wait in the next room now."

Harry was quick to leave.

**xXx**

By the time Newt and Dean had finished going through processing, Harry's arse had gone numb from sitting so long on the hard, plastic chairs. The room was windowless, and there were no magazines or a television to keep him occupied, and even when Newt joined him, the guard had forbidden them from talking. 

But with Dean finally finished, they were finally allowed to move on. Harry idly wondered if they made the processing procedure so boring just to make the inmates eager to get into the main part of the prison. The three of them followed the guard to the door, stopping when he paused with his hand on the wood. 

"Well you three," the guard said, giving them a wicked smile. "I hope you make a good first impression."

The guard pushed the door the rest of the way, opening them up to a world of dull sunshine and rhythmic grunting. 

"It'll be fine, it'll be fine," Newt murmured softly, and Harry suspected he was talking to himself. "Oh, goodness."

"Buck up, Newt," Harry muttered, stepping down the stone steps and onto the path. "You don't want to look weak."

It was easier said than done, but Harry managed to keep his back straight and chin up as he followed the guard, despite the pounding if his heart. The path was plain gravel, narrow, and surrounded by a tall, mesh wire fence on each side, separating it from the prison yard. 

Prisoners hung off the fence, with others crowded behind them as they all strained to see the new inmates. Harry kept his gaze forwards, trying to ignore the wolf-whistles, crude remarks, and threats being hurled at the three of them. The door to the prison was right in front of them, the path only short, but it felt impossibly long being on full display like they were. 

In a fleeting moment of curiosity, Harry cast a look over at the fence. His gaze flickered over a mass of navy and grey jumpsuits before finally settling on a tall, lean figure leaning casually against a wall. His arms were folded over his chest, and he looked utterly bored by the antics of the other men around him. 

The man must have felt a gaze on him, as he looked up and locked eyes with Harry, who swallowed heavily. Even from a distance, he could tell that the man was handsome--and that he knew it. Arrogance hidden behind a pretty face was exactly Harry's type, though admittedly, that was what had landed him in prison in the first place. 

The man smirked at Harry, who swiftly averted his gaze, making sure to stand even taller than before.He was grateful to go inside, at leat for a fleeting moment before he remembered this would be the building he was going to be confined to for the next five years. 

The inside of the building was bare and basic, grey walls and white floors which had bars of sunlight cast across them in the pattern of the bars on the tiny windows. The guard led Harry and the others through two sets of locked, ceiling-to-floor gates, and into a small room with several door-less openings. 

"Thanks, Hopkins," a new guard said, releasing the other of his duty. "Right, you three; this room right here is where you're going to be staying until you're assigned a wing-" he pointed towards one of the opening- "and don't ask me how long that will be. You'll take your meals with the other inmates, have yard time when they do, and I suggest you try not to make any enemies until you know which wing you're going to be in. Jobs will be assigned after your wing assignments, so until then you're only on the basic necessities unless you have friends or family kind enough to fill your commissary in the meantime."

Harry snorted. "If my aunt and uncle were kind, I wouldn't be here right now."

The guard ignored him. "Any threats or acts of violence towards guards or other inmates will result in either a shot, or time in solitary confinement, depending on the severity of the behaviour. My name is Smith, and I expect you to report to me any incidents of violence or intimidation that you might witness."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Dean--there was definitely no way either of them were going to become snitches. 

Smith handed them each a packet with a basic set of toiletries inside, and guided them to their temporary room. There was only a tiny portion of free space, the rest of the room taken up by two sets of bunk beds. An older man with grey-streaked sandy hair was already sat on one of the bottom bunks reading a book; he didn't even look up when they entered. 

Dean threw his packet on the bed above the man. "I'm taking this one."

Newt turned to Harry with a kind smile. "Which bed do you want?"

The man on the bed tutted. "Don't offer anyone choices like that in here. If you get a reputation as a punk, you'll be taken avantage of over and over again. You need to start acting tough if you want to survive in here."

"Oh," Newt murmured. "Uh, I'll take the top then."

"Not on your life, Scamander," Harry said, jumping up onto the plastic mattress. Being locked in a cupboard for most of his childhood had left him with quite the case of claustrophobia. "Nice try, though."

"So what's your deal?" Dean asked the stranger as Newt quietly dropped his things onto the remaining bed. "Are you dying, or are you a snitch put into ad-seg for your own protection?"

"Neither," the man said, and he closed his book with a sigh. "I have a chronic illness which had flared up, and there was no room left in the infirmary."

The man finally looked up, gaze idly sweeping the newcomers. He froze when he locked eyes with Harry's, and his mouth fell open. 

"Harry?" the man asked, voice pained. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you? James and Lily's kid?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you?"

The man shook his head. "No, no. Well you do, but last time I saw you, you were just a baby. But it has to be you--you look just like James, only your eyes...they're just like your mothers."

"I wouldn't know." Harry shrugged, trying to appear cool despite the clenching of his heart. "They died too long ago for me to remember them, and I've never even seen a photo."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you after your parents' death, Harry, truly, but things were...me and S-...my name is Remus, by the way, Remus Lupin."

Harry looked properly at the man for the first time, realised he wasn't as old as he first appeared, perhaps no older than forty. His eyes were light brown, almost amber in colour, and they were filled with regret and sadness. 

"Don't worry about it," Harry said lightly. "I don't think there's been a single adult in my life who hasn't let me down; I'm used to it.

"It's sad, really, isn't it?" Newt murmured. "So many children are let down by the people who're supposed to be looking after them, but society doesn't care until they cause a problem, and then they're just locked away in hopeless institutions like these."

Remus raised a brow. 

"Scamander's a hippie," Dean explained. "Still too disillusioned to see that life is bullshit and there's nothing we can do about it."

Harry looked at Remus again, who smiled sadly back at him. "Life is bullshit, but at least we're all in it together." 

**xXx**

Remus strolled slowly past the shelves in the library, trying to find a book that caught his attention which he hadn't read before. 

His heart still hadn't quite recovered from the sight of seeing James's kid in his cell. Harry looked just like James, albeit a very skinny and straggly, definite junkie version of James. Remus had long ago hoped that the role he had played for Sirius would have made Harry's life easier, somehow, but now he knew it had all been for nothing. Sirius was still locked away in maximum, and Harry was here in minimum with him. 

With a course of rage flowing through him, Remus grabbed a book off at random and began bashing it furiously against the book shelf. 

"Now, now, Lupin," came a crisp voice behind him. "There's no need for such violence against your beloved books, is there?"

Remus stopped what he was doing, breathing heavily as his fingers trembled around the book. "Leave me alone, Riddle. I don't want anything to do with you, and you know that."

He turned around to see Riddle leaning casually against a wall, flanked by two of his lackeys. Riddle smiled coldly at him. 

"Can't a man be friendly anymore?"

"Not where you're involved," Remus ground out. He made to leave, but one of the lackeys growled and took a step closed towards him. 

"You like chocolate, don't you?" Riddle continued, ignoring Remus's comment completely. "Personally, I don't think the chocolate in commissary is very nice at all. Not like, say, chocolate direct from Belgium or Switzerland, perhaps with pieces of nuts or nougat inside. I can get my hands on that, you know, for a price, of course."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You really think you can try and bribe me with _chocolate_?" 

"I think it's a fair trade, considering the easy job I'd like you to do for me," Riddle said, shrugging. "I'd simply like you to give me intel on the new inmates, particularly the little dark-haired one."

Remus's heart skipped a beat. "Why? What do you want with him?"

"Oh, I haven't stepped on your toes, have I?" Riddle said, feigning shock. "Imagine what the other men in here would think, that not only do you have dirty blood, but that now you're also preying on boys half your age. And I thought you were still dedicated to that serial killer."

"I'm not interested in Harry like that," Remus ground out through gritted teeth. "I knew him as a kid, and I don't want you getting your filthy hands on him."

"Only one of us here is _filthy_ , and it's the one whose blood is crawling with HIV," Riddle retorted calmly. "Look, all I want is for you to tell me all you can about your current cellies, especially _Harry_ , and in return you'll get something to sate your sweet tooth. If you refuse, well, I'll get my boys to break every bone in your body."

Remus knew Riddle was capable of it; he had the guards wrapped around his little finger, and a body of broken bones could be considered light for the things Riddle could actually do to him. 

"Fine," Remus finally said, sighing. "I'll do it."

Riddle smiled. "Good lad. I knew you were smart, Lupin; make sure to stay that way."


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Harry and Tom finally meet, and we get a closer look at some of the other characters :)
> 
> I have a list of all the inmates and staff for this fic, all with their own backstories which I'm excited to explore with you. Harry and Tom will of course be the main focus though :D
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: mentions of drug use and addiction, fleeting mentions of child abuse

**xXx**

Harry looked down at his dinner and grimaced, stabbing at his too-thick slop of mashed potato with his plastic fork. One of the prongs snapped against the food, and Harry smiled darkly. 

“Fucking great,” he muttered. “Our prison service is just wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Food should be nutritious, regardless of whether we’re in prison or not,” Newt added. He’d scraped his slab of overcooked meat off his plate and onto the table. “Everyone is entitled to human rights.”

Remus let out a snort of laughter. “Do you think anyone gives a damn about our human rights? You might want to reconsider your stance on eating meat if you want adequate protein in here.”

“Never!” Newt hissed, affronted. “I’m not giving up on my values.” 

“Your loss.” Remus shrugged and stole Newt’s abandoned meat. “You need to eat too, Harry. I know it’s not exactly appetising, but you get used to the bland taste.”

“Fucking brilliant,” Dean muttered, speaking up for the first time. 

The four of them sat together, and most eyes had studied them at least once. Excluding Remus, the rest of them were considered fresh meat, and Remus had warned them not to do anything that would make them appear weak. 

A loud squeal sounded to the side of Harry, and moments later his vision was blinded by a white-blond head. 

“Harry! Good to see you, mate!” Abraxas said, pulling back from Harry, beaming. “I didn’t know you’d been sent down.”

“Yeah, same charges and sentence as you,” Harry said. “A dirty cop turned me in.” 

“Bugger. When we get out of here, we’ll fuck that bloke right up. Oh, I’m Abraxas Malfoy, by the way,” Abraxas added, turning to Newt and Dean. “I’m going to borrow Harry from you now, so try not to miss him too much.”

Harry didn’t have much chance to argue as Abraxas hauled him up and steered him to another table, not that Harry was complaining. Newt, Dean, and Remus seemed nice enough but they were hardly talkative. Abraxas on the other hand was a familiar face. He and Harry had met when Harry had first run away from home, and had been the one to introduce him to a world of heroin and sex. They’d spent many a day shooting up and riding the high together. 

“Do you need hooking up, Harry?” Abraxas asked after they sat down. “I can get you some real decent quality smack.”

Harry grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. What goes for currency in here? My aunt and uncle won’t exactly be hooking me up for cash.”

Abraxas’ gaze darkened. “Well, the best person to get product from is Riddle, and he makes up his own payment options depending on what he needs.”

Abraxas jerked his head towards someone, and Harry followed the movement until his gaze fell on the handsome man Harry had seen when he’d first entered the prison. Riddle was sat on a full table, each inmate completely transfixed on whatever Riddle was saying. The food on their plates seemed to be far higher in quality to everyone else’s. 

Harry couldn’t help but stare at the sharp lines of the man’s face, and the perfect red bow of his lips. His heart skipped a beat when Riddle, all at once, looked up and met his gaze. Harry was horrified at being caught staring, until Riddle _winked_ at him before looking away. 

Harry felt his face flush, and turned back to Abraxas before he had to do a double take at Riddle’s table. 

“‘Brax, is that your _brother_?” Harry cried, spying the white-blond head and near identical face of Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had long hair, whereas Abraxas’ was short, but otherwise the twins were impossible to tell apart unless you really knew them. 

Their looks were all that they had in common. Abraxas, being a homeless junkie for most of his adult life, had been the black sheep of the family, disowned from his inheritance. Lucius, however, was the golden son, a highly respected and successful businessman. 

“Yes,” Abraxas said gleefully. “The bastard got sent down two months after I did for bribery. Fourteen fucking years he’s got in here. Wonder how Papa feels now both of his sons are massive disappointments.”

“Brilliant,” Harry beamed. “How’s he coping in here? I hope that prick’s got his arse beaten a couple of times.”

“Of course, Lucy never could keep his mouth shut, could he?” Abraxas said. “He ran to Riddle for protection, though, so the rest of the blokes here leave him alone now.” 

“Oh,”” Harry said, slightly disappointed. “He’s got an easy ride now, then?”

Abraxas shook his head. “Not with Riddle. He’s the most powerful bloke in here, inmate or staff. He only serves himself, and he has ways of making things happen if he isn’t happy. Riddle’s dangerous, and I’d rather take my chances than offer my servitude to him. Oh, don’t go getting any ideas, Harry?”

“Like what?” Harry questioned indignantly. He’d not even been making plans for anything, just listening to Abraxas, and trying to get the image of Riddle’s handsome face out of his mind.

Abraxas gave him a pointed look. “I know your type, and that type is dangerous arseholes. But Riddle’s more dangerous, and more of an arsehole than anyone you’ve been with. Do yourself a favour, babe, and stay away from him. Unless it’s to get smack, of course, but that’s it.”

“Fine, I’ll keep my dealings with him strictly professional,” Harry said, shooting Abraxas a wicked grin. 

**xXx**

The yard of the prison was just as dull as the inside, with a mass of grey flat-top bordered by three rows of metal wire fences topped with menacing looking barbed wire. Guards in blue uniforms were positioned in various spots around the fence, most looking like they’d rather be anywhere than there. Luckily for them, they got to go home at the end of the day. 

Abraxas pointed out specific inmates if he felt like Harry needed to know about them, and warned him which of the guards were the kind to turn off the cameras before beating prisoners. 

“You wanna stay away from MacNair, he’s so brutal I’m surprised he’s never been sent down for assault on the outside. Probably took a leaf out of my brother’s book and bribed his way out of any charges. Oh, this is my mate, Longbottom; he’s a Yorkshireman. Now then, Neville.” 

Neville smiled at Abraxas weakly before casting a nervous glance across at Harry. 

“Who’s this?”

“This lovely lad is my prodigy from the outside, Harry.”

Harry snorted. “Some prodigy. The only thing you taught me was how to go to prison.”

“See, if it was anyone else who’d made that kind of comment, I’d have beaten them until they were black and blue,” Abraxas said cheerfully, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “But I could never hurt my Harry. Nev’s a decent bloke, Harry, you can trust him.”

“I wouldn’t say _decent_ ,” Neville said awkwardly, shrugging. “I just want to do my time and get out of here.”

“Oi, Longbottom!”

“Alphard Black,” Abraxas muttered to Harry, before raising his voice to the newcomer. “Black! What can we do you for?”

“I have a message for him,” Alphard said gruffly, jerking his thumb towards Neville. “Riddle says he wants your shipment behind bars tomorrow, otherwise you know the penalty.”

Neville paled as Alphard left without another word. 

“What shipment?” Harry asked curiously. 

“Pot,” Neville said, his voice faint. “I used to grow it with a friend, and we grew _really_ good stuff. She helps me get it here. Oh, would you maybe want to buy some?”

Harry shook his head and grinned. “Do you really think I’d be friends with Abraxas and be interested in pot? I’m a hardened junkie, mate. If you have such good product and a way to get it inside, why don’t you just sell your own stuff?”

Abraxas let out a noise of disbelief, and Neville’s expression grew even more terrified. 

“I don’t want to sell anything! But Riddle found out that I had high quality product, and said he’d offer me protection of I brought it in for him. I’m not made for prison, so I couldn’t turn it down. And if I turned against him and sold my own stuff, they’d find me hanging in my cell.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Abraxas added. “There’s been a few supposed suicides among blokes who’ve tried to cross Riddle. Oh, and there’s someone else you don’t want to mess with.”

Abraxas jerked his head towards the door to the yard, through which a large, hairy man was walking through. The inmates nearest to him stepped away to widen his path, and the man sneered at them as his bulky form passed. 

“Fenrir Greyback,” Abraxas said, and Neville shivered. “He’s in supposedly for attempted rape, but he’s certainly more than attempted it with others in here. He used to be in higher security but they moved him for good behaviour. I’ve never seen him act well, so I dunno who he scared into letting him come here.”

“See why I need Riddle’s help?” Neville squeaked. “I’m like a worm to inmates like that.”

“Prison’s not so bad once you figure out who to avoid,” Abraxas said happily, ignoring Neville’s discomfort. “You’ll be fine, Harry; Uncle ‘Brax will make sure of that.”

**xXx**

Dean hesitated outside the doorway, not sure if he should truly enter or not. 

If his mates knew he was thinking about attending an art class, they’d piss themselves laughing. But Dean had always loved drawing, and he was _good_ at it, even though he pretended he didn’t give a shit about art when he was in front of his friends. 

Some mates they’d been anyway. Not a single one of them had gone down despite all of them being caught smoking pot together, and not a single one of them had defended him in court. Not that Dean was surprised they’d all thrown him under the bus along with the police; white people didn’t go down for pot the same way black people did. 

It was bullshit, and life was bullshit, and Dean really wanted to draw an angry picture to try and understand all the messed up emotions he was feeling inside.

“Are you or in, inmate?” an Irish-accented voice snapped, catching Dean’s attention. “I’m locking the door any second now.”

The guard was surprisingly short and slender, with sandy hair, soft brown eyes, and a dusting of freckles across his nose. He was cute, and the accent only made him cuter. 

“I don’t know,” Dean said smoothly. “Will you be posing naked for us to draw?”

The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Watch yerself, inmate.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Dean said with a flirtatious smile. “I’d very much like to see you naked, see if you’re as cute under your uniform as you are over it.”

The guard tried to look stern, but his blush gave him away. 

“Just get inside, inmate. The warden wants us to promote art therapy, and Luna will brighten your day even if you think painting’s shit.”

“I actually really like painting,” Dean said. “And my name is Dean Thomas, not inmate. What’s yours?”

“Finnigan,” the guard replied.

“First name?”

“That’s none of your business,” Finnigan snapped, though his tone lacked venom. 

Dean grinned again. “I bet it’s something real Irish, isn’t it? Niall? Paddy? Seamus.”

Finnigan’s blush intensified at the mention of the final name, causing Dean’s grin to widen. 

“Seamus Finnigan, hmm? Figures you’d have a cute name too.”

“Just get into the class, Thomas,” Finnigan said with a sigh. “I really do have to lock this door now.”

“Alright, alright, bossy,” Dean teased. “I sure hope you change your mind about life modelling. Maybe I’ll even join you, especially in a private, one-on-one class. Sounds fun, yeah?”

Finnigan was so red now he resembled a tomato. “In you get, Thomas.”

Dean smirked, and pushed past Finnigan as he entered the room. It seemed as though he’d found the first thing he liked about prison. 

**xXx**

Harry laid on his back in a hidden corner of the library, Abraxas by his side. It was almost like old times, just the two of them sprawled out in whatever space they could find. Usually they were high, so being sober was a noticeable difference, but otherwise it felt almost like freedom again. 

“Do you remember all those dreams we used to have?” Harry asked, turning onto his side to face Abraxas. 

Abraxas turned onto his side too, and idly brushed a strand of hair away from Harry’s face. “Yeah, like travelling the world, seeing Japan, Peru, Mexico...tasting the finest drugs all across the globe.”

“Or saving a man from death, only for him to end up being a billionaire and giving us millions for our troubles. Then shooting us the finest heroin in our mansion.”

Abraxas grinned. “Do you think the fact that all our dreams end up with us taking drugs is part of the reason we’re in jail.”

“Possibly, but I think a corrupt government and legal system still deserves the brunt of the blame,” Harry said. “Still, I’m glad I have you here with me. That Remus bloke knows me because he knew my parents, but he seems old and tragic.”

“Lupin’s alright, he just sticks to himself. Nobody will touch him because they’re scared of getting AIDS off him, but I’ve shared enough needles in my life to not give a damn about that. I tested clean though when I came in here. But yeah, Lupin’s decent enough but he’s in love with a serial killer who lives over in max, so you probably don’t want to piss him off incase word gets to his boy.”

“I don’t wanna piss him off, I just find him a bit of a downer.” Harry raised a brow in question. “He’s really dating a serial killer?”

“Dating might be the wrong word given that they’re both in different prisons, but yeah. Lupin’s in here for helping Black cover up his crime. I’ve done a lot of shit in my life, but I don’t think I could ever defend a serial killer.”

“Oi, Malfoy,” a voice snapped, and Harry and Abraxas both looked up to see a guard glaring down at them impatiently. “Your appointment with your psychologist has been moved to now, so I’d get a move on if you don’t want to be written down as a no-show.”

“You see a psychologist?” Harry asked with disbelief as the two of them clambered to their feet.

“Yeah, she has really big _knowledge_ ,” Abraxas said, making a crude gesture over his chest on the last word. “Catch up with you later, babe.”

Harry made to follow Abraxas, but the guard held up a hand to stop him. “You need to wait here.”

“Why?” Harry asked, but the guard had already turned and was walking away.

Harry stood in confusion for a moment, until a new figure approached him. It was Riddle. 

From a distance Harry had seen that Riddle was attractive, but up close it was like looking at an angel. Riddle’s complexion was flawless, his eyes a stunning shade of dark grey. He was perfectly symmetrical, with thick, neatly parted hair which had a gentle curl to it, and his physique was powerful though still slender. Riddle had to be the only person who could make an orange jumpsuit look good. 

“Hello,” Riddle said, and even his voice was like silk. “I came to introduce myself. My name is Tom Riddle.”

“I know who you are,” Harry said warily. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tom gave Harry a smile, which though strained, was handsome enough to have Harry’s stomach flipping over at the sight. 

“People say a lot of things about me,” Tom countered. “Some believe what they choose to, but belief alone isn’t enough to make truth. I hope you might consider to seek the truth for yourself, rather than believe whatever you hear.”

Harry furrowed a brow in confusion. “Is Riddle really your name, or is that a nickname you got from speaking so cryptically?”

“It’s my real name. You haven’t been polite enough to grace me with yours yet.”

“I’m Harry Potter, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

Riddle smirked, but didn’t confirm or deny what Harry had said. 

“I’m pleased who you know who I am, at any rate,” Riddle continued. “Something you may have heard, which is actually the truth, is that I’m the most powerful man in this prison. How many other people do you think could arrange for an appointment time to change so I could catch you alone?”

“You did that?” Harry repeated, mouth falling open in shock. 

“That’s nothing compared to what else I can do. I can be a powerful ally, but I can be a powerful enemy too. If you don’t wish to align yourself with me, I’ll respect that as long as you do nothing to cross me. You may be friends with that fool Abraxas Malfoy, but you strike me as a smart boy so I’m sure you’ll make the right choice in the end. Oh, and to prove this is an offer of friendship rather than a thinly veiled threat, I’ve brought a gift for you.”

Riddle reached into his pocket for something before tossing it at Harry. Harry caught it easily, and found it was a bag of white powder. 

“Some oxy, from me to you,” Riddle said with a dazzling smile. 

Harry’s stomach flipped again. “What do you want for it?”

“Nothing,” Riddle said. “This wasn’t a taster, but a gift. If you want more, even if it’s something stronger, I’ll get it for you, and we’ll work out a cost. You have a pretty mouth that I’m sure I could put to good use.”

Harry’s cheeks burned at the implication, and his gaze was drawn to where Riddle’s dick was hidden by cheap orange fabric. He licked his lips before tearing his eyes away and looking back at Riddle’s face. 

“I wouldn’t object to that. But why are you being nice to me? That doesn’t strike me as your game.”

Riddle stepped closer to Harry, until Harry was forced to tilt his face upwards so he could still see Riddle. 

“As I said, don’t believe everything you hear,” Riddle said. “Besides, I rather like your face. Oh, if you can, wait until the Carrow guards are on duty to take that; they’re on my side and they’ll let you get away with it. I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

**xXx**

“Doc!” Abraxas said brightly as he entered the tiny space the jail provided as therapy rooms. “Looking good, as always.”

Hermione smiled tightly. “Hello, Abraxas. Please, take a seat.”

“I told you, you don’t have to be so proper and professional around me,” Abraxas said. “I won’t tell anyone if you want to be a little naughty.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply gesturing at the chair opposite her. Abraxas took the seat, crossing one leg over the over. Some things about his aristocratic upbringing would never leave him, no matter how much sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll he surrounded himself with. 

“So, how have you been?” Hermione asked. 

“Much better now I’ve seen you,” Abraxas answered with a flirtatious smile. “I’ve told you that our meetings make my week.”

“Yes, I know. I meant how have you been in yourself between our last meeting and now?”

Abraxas was a hopeless flirt when it came to beautiful women, but Hermione never reacted to it. She simply took it in her stride and remained professional. It did piss him off a bit, because he certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone if Hermione decided she wanted to screw ethics and screw _him_ instead, but mainly he just admired her tenacity. Hermione was worth far more than a mindless fuck. 

“Well, life has mostly been shit, given the whole prison business,” Abraxas said, tilting his head. “But the last couple of days have been fucking fantastic, and I feel really guilty about saying that. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Doc. I know you’re a smart lady and what you’re thinking is that they’ve added fabric conditioner to the laundry and I’ve reached the point that I feel like I don’t deserve basic niceties like that, but it’s honestly nothing that deep. My best friend’s been sent here, and I feel like a shitty person to celebrate his imprisonment, but honestly it’s been the best t thing to happen to me in this last year.”

Hermione inclined her head. “That’s very understandable. You’re happy you have a true friend with you, but feel bad the end result of that is that you’re _both_ imprisoned. I can see where mixed emotions would stem from, and that’s very natural.”

“The poor kid’s only nineteen,” Abraxas added. “Ten years younger than me, but he’s the first person ever in my life who never let me down. Both of us got beat up by the men supposed to be looking after us, and he understood me like nobody else could...beside you, of course, Doc.”

Hermione smiled. “Are you in love with him?”

Abraxas let out a hiss of disgust at imagining Harry like that. “I love him, but not like _that_. I’ve fucked--when he was legal, mind you, because we did a lot of illegal shit together but I’m not a fucking pedo. You know how I feel about pedos; I’ve already been in shu twice for beating up two of the fuckers in here. But no, we fucked because sex on drugs is the most blissful thing in the world, and Harry especially loved being fucked while we were high on ‘shrooms because he thought it was like magic. I’m strictly a ladie’s man when I’m sober.”

He winked at Hermione for good measure. 

“Yes, it’s apparent that for you, sex can be a coping mechanism. Not a traditional one in the way that you abused drugs, but rather it’s something that makes you feel confident while talking about and engaging in. Of course it’s tragic that such a young man will be spending his youth behind bars, but it’s nice that you’ll have his positive company. You do deserve nice things, Abraxas, whether that’s fabric conditioner or a true friend. And I hope you know that I never seek to disappoint you or let you down. Many people enter criminal psychology because they consider criminals an adventure, but I see you as human beings and not just a means of seeking thrill.”

Abraxas swallowed as he suddenly felt a heavy lump in his throat. He looked at Hermione, whose gentle brown eyes were focused intently on him, as though she truly saw who he was as a man, and not just an abused junkie who forced a persona to hide the pain he lived with every day. 

“I hope you’re not trying to make me cry, Doc. You’ll ruin my mascara.”

Because even if Hermione saw who he truly was, it was too painful for Abraxas to let his true side out.


End file.
